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“Thank you,” she said, pulling her shirt up over her head and throwing it to the floor beside him. “I’m so tired, my feet seem as if they’re a million miles away. In a few months, they might as well be. I’ll have to get some slip-on shoes.”
“You don’t need them,” Tyler argued. “I’ll be here to help you.”
“Tyler?”
He sat back on his heels and looked up, catching a glimpse of her large ivory breasts held in the tight confines of her white satin bra. He swallowed hard at the sight of them and focused on her eyes, trying not to look at the temptation on display in front of him. Amelia wasn’t trying to tempt him—she was exhausted. “Yes?” he said, clearing his throat.
Her brow furrowed in thought, her eyes glazing over slightly. Even this discussion was tiring her out. “What if thirty days come and go and we don’t fall in love?”
That was a good question, and one he hadn’t really allowed himself to consider. Having a winning attitude in life had gotten him far. He’d accepted her challenge, never doubting he would be successful. But this was the first time he wasn’t fully in control of the variables. No matter what he did, it was possible that Amelia wouldn’t fall in love with him. Then what?
That was too deep a conversation for three in the morning. “You mean you’re not mad for me already? After last night?”
She shrugged coyly. “I’m getting there. Maybe we should try again tonight to see if it makes a difference.”
Tyler chuckled. As much as he’d like to, he didn’t relish the idea of Amelia falling asleep in the middle of it. He stood up, planting a warm kiss on her forehead. “Tomorrow night,” he promised. “Tonight, all you need to do is slip out of these pants and get to bed.”
She nodded slowly, fumbling at the waistband of her black slacks. “Are you staying in here with me?” she asked. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
Last night he hadn’t given her request a second thought. Now her question was plaguing his mind with unproductive fantasies about what might happen at the end of their time together. He’d always avoided a relationship with Amelia because he was certain it would end badly, like all the others before him. Now, because of the baby, he hadn’t allowed himself to consider any other alternative than them being successful. There was no way he would be sleeping anytime soon. Tossing and turning was more like it. Amelia needed her rest, and that meant he needed to sleep in his own room tonight.
“No,” he said, stepping away as she slipped off the last of her clothes.
Amelia slipped under the covers and Tyler pulled the comforter up as if he was tucking a small child into bed. She pouted a little, but the soft pillows quickly lured her into the twilight before sleep, wiping worries from her mind. “Good night, Tyler,” she said as her eyes fluttered closed.
“Good night,” he replied, looking down as she drifted off to sleep. Tyler couldn’t make himself walk away, like he should. He just stood there, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest and the faint smile that curled her pink lips in her sleep. She was the most precious thing he’d ever had in his life. And soon, they would have a child—maybe with the same rosy cheeks and flash of red hair.
Failure was simply not an option. That had been the motto of his life since he was eighteen years old and decided to get into the jewelry business. He hadn’t had a family legacy or a lick of experience, but that hadn’t stopped him. He had drive. Ambition. A fire that pushed him to succeed in everything in life. It was a passion Amelia lit in him.
That same passion would carry over into their relationship, as well. At the end of thirty days, Tyler would be successful in making Amelia fall in love with him. He might not be in love with her, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the one hell-bent on a perfect love. He just wanted a happy family, and he didn’t intend to let this woman and their child slip through his fingers.
Eight
“I can drive, Tyler.” Amelia frowned at him as she stared down his new Audi with disdain. “You don’t even know where my doctor’s office is.”
“You can tell me,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her to get in. Why would she rather ride in her old SUV than his brand-new luxury vehicle? He had heated leather seats. Individualized climate controls. It was like floating on a cloud to their destination.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “How can I convince you that pregnancy is not a disability? I’m perfectly capable of driving my own car to the doctor’s office.”
Ah, it wasn’t the car. It was him driving it. Too bad. His willingness to do whatever made her happy went only so far. He was going to take care of her whether she liked it or not. “If I had truly thought that about you, the acrobatics in bed last night would’ve persuaded me to believe otherwise.”
Amelia’s eyes grew wide, then a smile chased away her irritation. “Quit it,” she scolded.
“I will, but how can I convince you that letting other people help you isn’t a crime?” He stood looking at her expectantly until she finally gave in and climbed into his car. “See?” he said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She didn’t respond. Once he got in the car and they started out toward the doctor’s office, she turned to look at him again. “You make me crazy sometimes.”
He gave her a sly smile in return. “Ditto, sweetheart. You know, you gave me this big, looming deadline to steal your heart, but you fight me at every turn.”
Tyler’s thoughts drifted to her concerned question from Saturday night. She hadn’t broached the subject again since then, but he hadn’t been able to put it aside in his own mind. If she didn’t love him at the end of thirty days, it wouldn’t be for his lack of trying. But would their friendship survive it? He’d insisted everything would be fine and dismissed any concerns because he didn’t intend to lose, but could they be friends with a baby? Could they go back to where they came from, knowing what they knew about each other? “How am I supposed to woo you when you won’t let me do anything for you?”
“We must have different definitions of wooing. I don’t consider it very romantic to drive a woman around everywhere against her will and treat her like a fragile flower.”
“That’s your problem,” Tyler noted. “I don’t think you know what love is really about.”
“What?” She looked at him with wide eyes as she scoffed at his suggestion. “Love is my business.”
“Food is your business. Love is your obsessive ideal, but you don’t really understand it. You think love and romance is just about those big gestures—expensive gifts, fancy dinners and moonlit declarations of undying devotion.”
